Cold
by Dementor-of-the-Pen
Summary: On the exposed barren lands, it was freezing. Numb. Lifeless. Cold. He didn't know if he would survive to greet the next day. Was it even possible, when he was almost frozen stiff? Was it even worthwhile, when he was lost in the worst blizzard MapleClan had ever seen? {Challenge for LightClan [the LightClan led by Brightstar (Bright Streaks of Dawn)]. ONESHOT.}


This is for Lightclan's challenge, Cold, where a kit or apprentice gets lost on the snow.

* * *

Mousepaw hated snow.

Sure, he'd loved it a bit earlier in the day, when they were climbing coniferous trees and knocking it onto each other's pelts.

Only he'd never imagined that later on, the harsh leaf-bare winds would blow him off course and into the Barren Lands. That had been bad enough (snow was very nontransparent and all-crazily-over-you-ish), but add in a blizzard that whipped him across the face every five seconds? No thanks. He had a feeling even Ducksong would agree it was over the trees.

Now, he was plowing tiredly through seemingly countless drifts of snow. His paws felt like they would were frozen solid, and his head was covered a foot deep with white powder—because he'd been dipping his head to clear a 'path' through the relentless winds. Each breath drew fire into his lungs (how ironic), yet somehow he found the energy to pad on. He whipped one paw out in front of the other, screwed one blink after the previous. But later on, the harsh winds forced him to seal his eyes tightly shut.

It had gone on like this for a while. He felt like luck was throwing a party against him, and inviting its friends to watch 'The Mousepaw Show' while eating mice and dealing out cruel things to Mousepaw. Like tiredness. Boredom. Stiffness. Practical Blindness. He hadn't been able to get so much as a small peek at the MapleClan camp ever since morning.

He wondered, again, when his head would freeze and come completely toppling off. Hopefully not until this blizzard ended. He was going to have a story to tell when he got back to camp.

He sniffed mournfully. His nose was numb, and other than snow, he couldn't smell a thing, and if he opened his mouth, he would only get a mouthful of snow. So that meant he only had his half-awake homing instincts to guide him through cold white powder that reached up to his stiff flank. Very comforting.

He figured he'd been continuously walking for about two hours, even if it seemed as though he'd never moved a single inch.

Then something brown—something moving, which meant that it was possibly alive—caught his eye through the fast blizzard.

He pushed down a flare of hope that was beginning to burn in his belly (...or was it just hunger?). The object was probably just some stray dust whisking across on a windy day like this. But he went after it anyway, because—who knew? It might have come from some source of shelter. Panting, he willed some more thin energy into his weary bones, and he began to persevere against the snow.

The bad news: As far as he could see, it wasn't coming from any protected shelter.

The good news: It was a... wait for it, wait for it... rabbit!

Once he knew this, Mousepaw felt his belly wake up and give a sharp rumble of hunger. With a jolt, he realized just how long it'd been since he last ate. Maybe even a whole day...

He snapped back to his senses. The rabbit was getting away. It moved slowly and wobbly on its snow-colored legs, like it was as starved and tired as him. Which it probably was. But who cared, anyway?

He caught up with the scrawny prey easily enough, and gave it a killing swipe across the neck.

Even though it hurt to be arching his body so much, he ate like he'd just been fighting a moment ago—fast, very fast.

The rabbit's blood awakened him a bit more. After finishing the measly meal, he felt a bit more enthusiastic—like he'd suddenly swallowed a bunch of energy pellets. Remembering that snow was just another form of water, he swallowed a bit of that also, refusing to spit it out even when it frosted his mouth to near icing.

And then he remembered his dumb situation. He was pretty sure that it wouldn't be long until he lost confidence and just snuggled up for some endless sleep (like the elders said), and he figured he had only a few hours left before the whole thing cut him apart.

"Hey, you!" A call rang out through the roaring blizzard. "What're you doing out there, in this weather? God, you must be freezing your paws out over there! I'll go get some help!"

Mousepaw looked up feebly to get a quick glance at a dark ginger pelt, retreating into what seemed like a mound of dark snow piled up against a large rock. He wondered who this cat was, and what he was doing here. Mousepaw's gut instinct would usually tell him not to trust strangers, but well, at least it didn't seem as likely that he would freeze to death out here.

He struggled towards where the cat had been. By now, his paws felt they really were going to get frostbite.

He shivered. He crouched low on the ground, getting his breath back, as he waited for the ginger cat to come back. Then a thought struck him. What if the cat had tricked him on coming farther from the direction of (what he thought was) MapleClan camp? Anger boiled in his belly, sharpened by the rabbit's blood. He felt like hot water had melted the snow. He was turning around to leave, when cat-like came emerging out of the 'den'. Two cats were padding towards him. He felt a growl (or at least what his growl should have sounded like) begin to rumble out of his throat, and swallowed it back. He couldn't afford to anger the cats who might be trying save him.

"Oh, dear!" the cat nearest to him, a light ginger she-cat, mewed. "We'd better get you inside. C'mon, sweetie." She grabbed on to his scruff. His legs buckled immediately.

"Orange, help me carry him!" she yelped to the ginger cat from before.

'Orange' (weird choice for a cat's name, he thought) grumbled but still fastened his teeth into Mousepaw's flank. Together, they hoisted him off the ground and towards their den hole.

It was a bumpy ride. Mousepaw wanted to call out and tell them to take it easy, but found he didn't have the strength. So instead he just allowed himself to be dangled weakly through the hole entrance, which was actually a small gap with snow hanging over the entrance.

He found it was surprisingly warm in the cave.

Once they were all finally inside, the she-cat—Rain, she called herself—began to talk to him even more. "So, dear... How did you find yourself outside in the harsh storm?"

Before he could reply, Orange mewed, "Well, Momma, I saw him staggering around in the snow. I mean, just look at his brown pelt! Kind of hard to miss, huh? Well anyway, I shouted real loud for you, and you shoulda seen the look on his face, it was—"

"Please, Orange. Give him some rest." Rain interrupted, as if she could sense Mousepaw's increasing annoyance at her son. "Why don't you clear a nest for our guest at the back of the cave?"

"But— "

"Now." Rain's voice was firm. Reluctantly, Orange stomped away from them. Mousepaw was relieved. He felt he really might've clawed that ginger tomcat if he'd stayed any longer, and unfortunately, attacking your 'savior' didn't seem like such a good way to stay alive. Mousepaw wondered if he could get some rest now—and maybe also a good, belly-filling yummy snack... But there didn't seem to be any sort of that luck holed up in his life... So, of course, there was no apparent reason for it to pop up now.

"Young one, let's start simpler. What's your name?" Rain said.

"M-m-mou-mous-s-p-p-paw." he stuttered out. His teeth chattered like someone (example: cold claws of air) was repeatedly bumping his jaw on purpose.

"Oh, dear." Rain said, noticing. "We'd better get you warm." She snaked her slim body around him, pushing him towards the back of the cave. Her yellow fur had a soft, silky feel to it. It reminded him of how a mother would comfort a child. He was about to protest that he wasn't some sort of helpless and feeble kit. Then he realized that her belly seemed to bulge a bit out farther than normal, which probably meant that she was expecting kits, and therefore had those annoying motherly instincts.

"Rain!" came a gruff voice from the back of the cave. "What do you have there—a young cat? Why is he here?"

Mousepaw's eyes widened. Up front was a huge tom with a thick white covering. He looked like one of those feisty dudes who walked into a den and said, Whoops! I've been in the snow for a while, but forgot to shake it off!

Except the muscular white tom wasn't covered in snow. Instead of any artificial white stuff, he was coated with a practically glowing air of authority, and his blazing blue eyes burned into the small amber ones of Mousepaw.

"So what happened? Did we find another straggler?" The white tom mewed.

Another straggler? Did he mean that there was another cat who'd gotten stuck out in the blizzard? If so, then Mousepaw sure hoped that the other straggler wasn't in any sort of 'dire situation'.

"Yes," Rain answered. "He says his name is Mousepaw. I don't know where he's come from, or why he's out in the snow, we just need to get him to somewhere warmer. Poor youngster must've been freezing his fur off!"

Great. Now Rain would act like a second mother to him. One mother had been enough. Oh, well. At least she would protect him from the big scary white tom who was leaning over and squinting at him.

Mousepaw looked up at the white cat, fearing the worst. What if he was forced back out into the snow? He was pretty sure he wouldn't survive if that happened. He prayed 'big whitey' was one of those nice, angelic cats (yeah, big chance of him being related to StarClan).

'White' bent down closer to Mousepaw. Mousepaw's breath hitched up in his throat. He felt like he was choking on a furry mouse.

"Hey, look at you, young lad! You look like a mightily strong one, we could use you here! And you're a dusty brown color as well! Looks like SarCan finally decided to lend me a paw." 'White' mewed. Mousepaw stood, eyes stretching wide at him. At first, he was surprised out of his wits. Was this guy seriously letting him into the big family? Suddenly Mousepaw found it even harder to regain his former posture.

"Errr... It's... nice to meet you, too..." he said, and immediately felt like a slug plucked out of soil.

"Wait, I haven't even properly introduced myself yet. I'm Whitefur—father of Orange—" Whitefur lowered his voice. "—he's the orange tom, 'kay? Kind of annoying at first, but you'll soon get used his loud outbursts." Mousepaw wondered what 'get used to it' was supposed to mean. Before he had the chance to ask, Whitefur was back to talking again. Heck, if this guy ever got into the apprentice—or warrior—den, Mousepaw knew Falconstar would have a real chit-chatting problem on his paws.

"And if you ever need to go, uuhh... make dirt (he said this with a bit of a high questioning tone), just do that in the hole over there—" Whitefur used his fluffy tail indicate somewhere towards the back of the den. "—and you can sleep over there." He pointed to the opposite side of the dark wall.

"Umm... You see, don't get me wrong, I'm all thankful for you saving me like that, but I wasn't exactly going to be staying here for long..." Mousepaw started uncertainly.

"Say, wha? Of course you'll be staying! Where'll you go if you don't?"

"There's this place called a clan..."

"Oh, SarCan forbid! How could you live in a can?"

"I said... Wait, SarCan? You mean StarClan?"

Whitefur looked confused. "No, I said Sar... Oh—never mind, it really is StarClan. But I thought it didn't exsist! My momma said it might've, that's why she named me Whitefur, but... how'd you know about StarClan in the first place? Are you StarClan?" Whitefur shrank away from Mousepaw, with his eyes stretched out of their sockets, as if Mousepaw had suddenly grown a second head. Just to be sure, Mousepaw did a body check. Nope, it didn't seem like any physical conditions were wrong.

He was on the brink of wondering why he'd ever been afraid of this guy in the first place. Then a thought came to his mind, one he hadn't considered before. He wondered how these cats would like a new life in MapleClan.

"Listen, Whitefur... There's a lot I need to explain to you."

* * *

Okay, I finally posted this thing. Truth be told, I had this written a couple days before now, except I was too lazy or busy to edit it. Yeah, I don't really enjoy editing and revising stuff.

*sticks out tongue at keyboard* Why won't this let me use italics or bold and STAY THAT WAY?

Anyway, what do you think of this? Give a rating between 1 and 5, 1 being the worst, 5 the best. And... Do you guys think that Whitefur, Rain, Ginger, and the others have a future in MapleClan?

Balloons! Balloons! Balloons for everyone!


End file.
